Occamy Silver
by megSUPERFAN
Summary: Jacob doesn't remember them anymore, but they certainly haven't forgotten him. In which Newt has an idea for a goodbye present to his closest Muggle friend. (Based off one of the last scenes of the movie.)


**This whole thing got deleted, then rewritten. The first version was much better, but Take 2 came pretty close. Enjoy! :)**

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Newt sat down next to the Occamy nest, setting down a recently emptied tin pail. Pickett scrambled off his shoulder into his now-idle hands. Newt had done the chores and the feeding to keep his mind off what had happened. His creatures cheered him a bit, but it wasn't enough. He had told Tina (Queenie had stayed mostly in her own room and wasn't saying much) that he would be down here for a while, and she had understood.

He needed to be alone with his beasts- not _wanted_, but needed. What he wanted- _who _he wanted- was gone. He scolded his thoughts- No, Newt, he isn't gone, not really, just... _just gone from you_. To think a Muggle- a No-Maj?- had been Newt's first friend in New York, though their first meeting had been chaotic, to say the least. Newt smiled in spite of himself. He'd never made a friend so quickly, not a true friend, not among humans. And now... Jacob...

A Diricawl chick hopped into Newt's lap, and he stroked it automatically while his other hand rescued a startled Pickett. It was unfair to all of them what the Minis- President- had decided; unfair to Jacob, who belonged in the magical world more than Newt could ever have believed a Muggle could; and unfair to all his friends left behind forgotten. But it didn't help to speculate on the unfairness of it all.

An Occamy hatchling squawked as its sibling slithered over it. The Diricawl vanished in Newt's hand and reappeared next to its mother a few yards away. Newt stood up, though nothing was really wrong, and bent over to let the feathery beast coil in his arms. This was the late-comer, the newest hatchling, smaller than the others. Although size was unreliable with Occamies, Newt always knew. This was Jacob's Occamy. Had been Jacob's.

No. It still would be.

As the creature curled around his arms, beating small wings to keep its balance, Newt found his mind wandering. His eyes fell on the eggshells, lying in halves scattered all over the floor of the nest. One even held a tiny Occamy asleep inside, a perfect streamlined spiral. They were valuable, Newt knew, worth a hefty fortune in Galleons and no small amount in Muggle money either...

Suddenly, he remembered Jacob- everything reminded him of Jacob- but this was not another melancholy thought, no, this was an _idea_.

Newt let the Occamy back into the nest and grabbed an eggshell, his fingers running over it as rapidly as his thoughts were turning. Pure silver.

He remembered Jacob's words about his present job compared with the job he longed for, and all that he needed was... collateral. Money. And silver was money, as far as anyone was concerned, wizards or Muggles.

This was how Newt could repay the help and friendship he had received, though the giver had no memory of them.

Within a minute, he had Conjured a suitcase (not unlike his own) and began to gather up the silver shells, all of them, just in case. He didn't know how much they would be worth, or what the bank was asking of Jacob, but surely all of this would be enough.

Finally, Newt tipped the dozing Occamy gently out of its cozy bed, provoking an annoyed hiss, and added the last shell to the case. He shut the lid slowly, fastened it tightly, and immediately opened it again. There had to be a note, of course. Newt didn't care how strict the secrecy laws were here; he could not let Jacob receive his gift without knowing what or even who it was meant for.

He went into his shack and Summoned a small rectangular piece of paper, smoothing it out as best he could. He took out a quill- bright pink, from his Fwooper- and sat down. But what to write? What words to use, and how?

Phrases and various greetings ran through his head, until finally Newt simply wet his quill and wrote:

_Dear Mr. Kowalski,_

_You are wasted in a canning factory. Please take these_

_Occamy eggshells as collateral for your bakery._

There was no need to write anything more, but Newt so badly wanted to. To tell Jacob everything all over again, to ask him, to beg him, "Don't you remember?" though that was impossible.

He spent more time than was probably necessary deciding whether or not to sign his name. Eventually, he decided to leave it anonymous, and simply signed the note:

_A well-wisher._

Newt put away the quill and ink and took the letter in his hand. He went back outside, shooing his Niffler away from the shining silver. He set the paper down, stared for a second, then chuckled to himself, going in search of the Niffler (that had not dared to take the shells when their former inhabitants were guarding them) to take back the majority of the silver from the protesting thief. ("Hush your whining, they're for Jacob.")

At last, the unsuspicious present was packed and ready. Newt picked it up, put on his coat, and tucked Pickett into one pocket, his wand in another. In no time, he was lifting the lid of his own suitcase and climbing out.

He hesitated to roam the house in search of Tina, but found her waiting for him when he came out; he assumed she'd heard his door open. "Going somewhere?" Her voice was quieter than usual.

He met her eyes- or tried to. Newt still found it terrifying to make direct eye contact with her- she made him nervous. In a good way.

"No- Yes," he replied. "Yes, I- I just need to deliver something. Won't be a moment. If you don't mind."

"Deliver what?" Her eyes were drawn in excusable apprehension to the suitcase he held, and he guessed what she must be thinking.

"Oh, it's not a creature... not really, I- my case is still in the bedroom," he said.

"Oh." She was curious; he could always tell when she was curious. "Who's it for?"

He averted his gaze even farther, lest she disapprove as he expected her to. "Jacob."

"Oh," said Tina again, looking as if she wanted to say something else. Newt waited for her to ask what was inside the suitcase, but she didn't. "I've been with Queenie. She... she misses him."

Newt was torn between saying "I know" and "So do I". A few seconds passed.

"Go on then," she said suddenly. "Don't do anything..."

"Anything ridiculous?" A small smile tugged at Newt's face. Tina's mirrored it.

"Anything against the law."

"It won't be." Newt wrapped his fingers more tightly around the suitcase's handle. "Keep my creatures secure while I'm gone. I'll be right back." Tina nodded.

Soon, Newt was outside, walking down the street, realizing he did not know the location of Jacob's job. Asking the first Mug- No-Maj he came across provided him with vague but sufficient directions. Only a few blocks away, Newt arrived.

Jacob had not been exaggerating- even outside the gates Newt felt it. The stifling air of depression, the smell that was almost the very scent of last desperation. Pickett curled his fingers through Newt's buttonhole and buried his green face in the wool, reminding the wizard of a wilting tree.

He had to find Jacob, but there were hundreds of people here. Newt's coat stood out as a splotch of color among the grey.

There?

He hurried through the crowd as politely as possible, only to be disappointed.

After a few more false alarms, Newt realized the hopelessness of the situation and was beginning to wonder whether he should just call out Jacob's name, when he felt a small tug on his collar. He turned. "What is it?" Then he smiled, whispering a thank-you to his Bowtruckle, and dashed forward.

Newt had decided an "accidental" run-in was the safest and easiest way to pull this off, but it took all of his willpower not to stop, not to say anything other than an apology, and most of all not to look back when he heard Jacob's familiar shout. All too soon, both wizard and No-Maj were lost to each other in the sea of people.

Once he had escaped the rush of the crowd, Newt slowed down. He turned halfway into a deserted alley and took a shaky breath, leaning against the wall. There. He'd done it.

He'd never see Jacob again.

Pickett felt his friend's trembling and crawled out, not realizing what a comfort it was to Newt to have a real, hand-held friend just then.

After a few minutes, Newt again took a deep breath, hid Pickett away, and stepped out onto the street again, making his way back to Tina's apartment.

It was not until hours later as he sat alone on the bed that Newt realized he should probably have told Jacob what an Occamy was.


End file.
